


Billable Hours

by inlovewithnight



Category: Brothers & Sisters
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-04-09
Updated: 2007-04-09
Packaged: 2017-10-15 21:46:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/165236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inlovewithnight/pseuds/inlovewithnight





	Billable Hours

"Walker."

Kevin looked up from his computer and sighed. "What?"

"And he lives." Steve leaned against the doorframe, tucking his hands in the pockets of his trousers so his jacket fell just _so_ over his wrists. That was exactly the kind of behavior that made Kevin want to stab him with a letter opener. Or, well, be him when he grew up. "I've paged you twice in the last half-hour."

"You did?" Stupid. _Don't show vulnerability; there are sharks in the water, Kevin, and today you are bait._ He looked at his phone, and sure enough, the screen sweetly informed him that he'd missed...three messages. Great. "Oh. Damn it. I'm sorry."

Steve shrugged and glanced over his shoulder down the hallway. "Don't worry about it, it was bullshit, I gave it to Meyers."

 _Great._ "Because Meyers isn't gunning for my ass anyway," Kevin muttered, shuffling through the papers on his desk.

"Lots of people are gunning for your ass, Walker," Steve said brightly, "in lots of different ways."

"Due for another sexual harassment seminar, are we?"

"Oh, c'mon, Kevin, it's not a hostile work environment, it's an admiring one." Steve's smile faded and he tilted his head to the side, looking at Kevin more closely. "You okay?"

"I'm fine."

"No." Steve shook his head and stepped into the office, tugging the door closed behind him. "Come on. What happened? Tell Uncle Stevie all about it."

Kevin stared at him. "Okay, first of all, I refuse to call anyone I've slept with _uncle_ , and if you'd met my family, you'd understand why."

"But I'm not the kind of guy you can take out in public," Steve said, mouth twitching with the threat of another grin as he dropped into the chair across from Kevin, "much less home to mother, yeah, I know, you told me."

"And second of all," Kevin forged ahead, doing his best to ignore every word that came out of Steve's mouth, as always, "this office is made entirely of glass, so closing the door doesn't really do much to turn this into a private chat."

"Good point." Steve bounced back up out of the chair again. "We'll do lunch. How about Tony D.'s? Private chat in the firm's private booth. And swordfish steaks. Can't go wrong."

"No, you can just get mercury poisoning." Kevin reached for another stack of papers and shook his head. "And we're not having a private chat."

"Kevin?" The facade slipped from Steve's voice, exposing something Kevin had only heard a handful of times before, in the rarefied and much less than public circumstances where the man was willing to drop the act. "I'm actually not being a jackass. For once."

Kevin stared down at his desk for a moment, then nodded and reached over to his intercom. "Carol? I'm headed out to lunch. Be back in..." He glanced at Steve and raised his eyebrows.

"Make it two hours," Steve said, buttoning his jacket theatrically. "The post-lunch drink is free at Tony's."

"No it isn't."

"It is if you know the bartender."  
***  
"…so, you know, I don't know, maybe I made a mistake?"

"No." Steve shook his head and poured the rest of his martini into Kevin's glass. "My mom watches his show. He's terrible."

"Okay, his acting skills are actually _not_ the point here."

"Of course they are. Look, when he was supposed to be all betrayed because Cordelia was carrying Winsor's baby? It was more like 'Cordy, you ate the last of the Cheez-its' than 'Cordy, you betrayed me and broke my heart.' If he can't even be convincing about that, how good can he honestly be in bed?"

Kevin blinked at him. "Your mom watches the show, or _you_ watch the show?"

"It doesn't change my point."

"Yeah, well." Kevin sighed and took a sip of…holy hell, double-strength mixed martini, and had to cough before he could go on. "Um. Jesus. Your point is wrong, I'm afraid, because he was _amazing_ in bed. It was the best thing about our relationship, actually."

"That might've been the first sign right there, you know." Steve looked up as the waitress stepped into the booth. "I'll take a to-go box and the check, thank you so much, darling."

"It's time to go back to work?" Kevin looked at his watch, winced and looked away, and fumbled for his cell phone to check the time. "Fuck. I'm going to make an ass of myself."

"So what else is…okay, too easy." Steve shook his head and reached for his own phone. "You're not going back to work."

"I'm pretty sure you can get fired for going to lunch and just not coming back."

"I'm pretty sure you can get fired for coming back from lunch drunk, too." Steve clicked at the phone for a minute and then glanced up at Kevin. "Don't worry about it, okay? I'll call in, tell Daniels that you got food poisoning at lunch. Blame the swordfish."

"I didn't have the swordfish."

"Okay, Kevin, for a lawyer you are a _lousy_ liar sometimes, and way, way too literal." Steve snapped his fingers and held up his hand before Kevin could respond, eyebrows and voice going upwards as someone answered the phone back at the office. "Dana, sweetie, it's Steve Whitman. Yeah. Well, I'm at lunch with Kevin Walker…Mr. Walker from downstairs, that's right…yeah, with the eyes…and the cute little behind, uh-huh…"

Kevin groaned and stabbed his fork into the last piece of bread on his plate, not sure if he wished it was Steve's forehead, or Dana's, or his own.

"Anyway, something in Kevin's lunch disagreed with him, probably the swordfish, you know how that is…uh-huh…well, he's just turned green, swear to God, Dana, so I'm going to help him get home, okay? If you could just let Mr. Daniels know that Walker's out for the afternoon and I'll be back in about an hour. Uh-huh. I'll stay late tonight and make it up, absolutely, and I'm sure Kevin will be in this weekend."

Kevin groaned again and reached for his glass, draining the last of the martini. Great. Whole weekend at the office. Well, at least it would keep him away from other people and out of trouble.

"Thank you so much, Dana. You have a great day." Steve hung up and tossed his phone down with a satisfied smile. "See? No problem."

"Except you booked me for the weekend," Kevin said flatly. "And you didn't tell her to tell Carol."

"What? Oh. You would've been in on the weekend anyway. Gibson case. And the secretaries are all linked on some kind of psychic network, swear to God. Carol will know in fifteen minutes."

Kevin had to nod at that, and stare blankly down at his plate. "Your phone voice is something else, you know that?"

"It's just this thing I do. It works for me."

"You mean it makes other people do things for you, because they think you're an idiot."

"Isn't that what I just said?" Steve smiled again as the waitress handed him the check. "I'm just going to sign for this and put it on my tab, okay? I have to get my friend here home. Boozing at lunch. He has a problem."

"I hate you."

"You love me, Kevin." Steve stood up and buttoned his jacket again, fingers dancing with the expensive fabric in an elegant way that Kevin never could quite figure out. "That's why we'll never really be friends."  
***  
Kevin rolled his head back against the seat and stared at the ceiling of the cab. "You really didn't have to come with me."

"Are you kidding? With your luck lately, you would've been kidnapped by gypsies between the curb and the building."

"Because LA's gypsy population is rampant."

"They could strike at any time." Steve laughed and stretched his legs out crosswise in the footwell, nudging Kevin's feet out of the way. "Besides, I took the extra hour off, what else am I going to do?"

"I guess." Kevin sighed. "Did I mention that I've decided on a life of celibacy?"

"You did. And I told you that was a terrible plan."

"Right. Your solution is a life of empty, meaningless sex."

"I think the term I used was _casual_." Steve kicked Kevin's ankle lightly until Kevin looked at him. "And what I actually said was maybe it would be better for _you_ if you kept things that way, until you learn to either actually have fun with someone, or to stop being such a defensive and paranoid freak of nature."

Kevin nodded slightly and closed his eyes again. "And that's when I ordered the second martini, right?"

"Right." The cab came to a stop and Steve handed a twenty over to the driver. "Keep the change."

"Look at you, Mr. Generous."

"I'm going to go through your wallet after I dump you in bed." Steve patted Kevin's shoulder. "Come on. Up and out."

"Can we not use the word 'dump'?" Kevin got out of the cab with exaggerated care, leaning against the trunk until Steve came around to help him along. "I hate that word. Sounds like…garbage."

"Please don't have a drunken crisis of self-image. That will take a lot longer than an hour, and I have to get back to work."

"Why didn't we work out, Steve? Remind me again?" They made it to the elevator and Steve propped Kevin against the wall while he punched the buttons.

"Because we are fundamentally incompatible, Kevin my dear, and we would kill each other inside of a month, and also you have no taste in…anything."

"Definitely not men," Kevin sighed, thumping his head back against the wall. "My life sucks."

"Your life is wonderful and you know it." Steve moved him into the elevator and propped him up again. "Once the drinks wear off, you'll even remember that you're gorgeous and charming and easily able to pick up individuals of questionable virtue at any bar in town."

"That doesn't count as having an emotional life, Steve."

"Yeah, well, I can't help you with that, Kevin. That would take a team of highly qualified mental health professionals, working around the clock, with a separate team of…" The doors opened and he started propelling Kevin down the hall to his apartment. "…priests, rabbis, and whatever you call the holy men of Southeast Asia, praying in shifts for a miracle."

"Anyone ever tell you that you're kind of a prick?"

"Again, it's just too easy. Keys." Kevin sullenly handed them over. "And in you go. To bed. I'll get you some water and your phone so you're ready when your mother calls. If I remember correctly, that's once every three hours or so, right?"

"Sometimes it's my sisters."

"Right." Steve disappeared into the kitchen and Kevin dragged himself to the bedroom, bracing himself against the dresser with one hand as he toed his shoes off.

"Here you go." Steve set the water glass and cordless phone on the bedside table, then looked at Kevin, still leaning on the dresser. "You need some help?"

"Like you said. Therapists and priests in overlapping shifts."

Steve shook his head and stepped over to him. "Let's just start with your jacket, maybe. Save the rest of it for another time."

Kevin let Steve manipulate him like a doll, unbuttoning his jacket and slipping it off his arms, then folding it carefully and hanging it over the back of a chair. "Why do I make bad choices?"

"I blame your family." Steve returned to Kevin and set to work loosening his tie.

"Oh." Kevin nodded and tipped his head back, giving him more room to work. "Yeah, okay, I can see that."

Steve laughed softly, tugging the tie free of Kevin's collar and dropping it onto the dresser. "You know what I like about you, Walker?"

"I can't even begin to guess."

"You're…hey, look at me?" He cupped Kevin's chin in his hand, tilting it so he could meet Kevin's eyes. "You're a good person. You are. None of the shit that goes wrong in your life happens because you're mean, or deliberately fucking with people or…anything like that. You're doing your best. Yeah, you fuck up and do unbelievably dumb things, and you're one of the most amazingly emotionally crippled people I've ever had the pleasure of knowing, but…well, that's life, right?"

Kevin blinked and licked his lips, feeling very stupid but not entirely sure if he _should_. "I…have no idea if I should be insulted or not by that."

Steve laughed again, shaking his head. "You know, Walker…sometimes I wonder about you…"

"I wonder about--" Before Kevin could finish the words, Steve's mouth settled over his, warm and soft and shutting him up in the most effective way anyone had ever found to deal with a Walker.

Kevin made a soft, startled sound, his hands coming up to fist in Steve's jacket. Steve broke the kiss laughing again, and gently brushing Kevin's hands away. "That's Armani, Walker, have a little respect." He shook his head before Kevin could reply and tugged Kevin's shirt loose from his trousers. "You need to go to bed."

"I need a lot of things," Kevin said, sliding one hand up the back of Steve's neck to thread his fingers through his hair and tug him in for another kiss. Steve's hands stilled, fingers splayed against Kevin's waist, warm and comfortable and just familiar enough.

Steve pulled back again after a long moment, and there was a flash of something in his eyes, the calculator running, the clock. How much longer before he needed to be back at his desk, what was the loss of billable hours here? It made Kevin's stomach twist a little, seeing that, but only a little, and distant enough through the booze and exhaustion and frustration with himself that he could ignore it without too much trouble. This was what he was good at, what he wanted from now on, what he _should_ have. Carving a space out from the schedule for a little pleasure, a little comfort, no promises or obligations that take up too much room and carry too much weight.

"You need a lot of things," Steve echoed, running his thumb over Kevin's lower lip and smiling slightly. "Should use that as your motto, Kevin."

Kevin tried to step forward, to crowd Steve back toward the bed, but Steve shook his head and gently pushed his shoulders back against the wall. "Just hold on a minute, okay?" Steve's hands slid back down to the waistband of Kevin's pants, moving to undo the fly and let them slide down Kevin's legs to pool on the floor.

Kevin swallowed hard, watching Steve's eyes as Steve eased Kevin's boxers down after the pants. "Steve, why don't we--"

"Shut up, Walker," Steve said, smiling again and shaking his head. "Just trust me on this one."

Trusting Steve Whitman was right up there in the catalogue of bad ideas with "letting Sarah mix the drinks" and "dating Chad Berry," but since Kevin's bad decisions were the theme of the day anyway, he let out a shaky breath and nodded, leaning back against the wall and watching with a mixture of shock and excitement as Steve got down on his knees.

It was a bizarre, dissonant, electric thrill, standing here in the middle of the afternoon, his shirt still on and buttoned all the way to the collar, the fabric pushed up his torso and held out of the way by Steve's hands, broad and warm against the exposed skin. And Steve still in his full suit, the knees of those Armani slacks wrinkling from being pressed to the floor, the tails of his jacket cutting precisely away from his hips and falling just _so_ , a fucking oil portrait of propriety while the man wearing them brushed his lips and then his tongue along the length of Kevin's cock, exhaling softly against the hot, hardening flesh and then taking it in his mouth.

Kevin's head thumped back against the wall again, one hand tightening on the edge of the dresser and the other flat against the wall, bracing himself. Steve's hands pressed more firmly, holding Kevin still as Steve took him deeper and then pulled back, sliding his wet lips along Kevin's cock slow enough to make Kevin curse under his breath and shudder.

He remembered from when they'd done this before that this one of Steve's singular areas of expertise-- _"Blow jobs and tax shelters," he always said with a grin, "I'm thinking of getting that on my business cards"_ \--and he was drunk and tired enough to not care about holding back, just let the heat and wet and friction work their magic until his muscles tightened and his hips jerked and Steve swallowed him down, his fingers flexing in the folds of Kevin's shirt.

Steve stood up, a faintly smug smile on his lips. "Now will you please go to bed and enjoy the afternoon off I got you?"

"You don't want…" Kevin gestured vaguely and Steve shook his head, glancing over his shoulder at the alarm clock.

"No time. You can owe me one. Next time my life goes to shit, okay?"

"Right. Drinks and oral sex, the next time your life goes to shit. I'll write it in my planner."

"There we go." Steve steered him over to the edge of the bed. "Now go to sleep."

"Bossy," Kevin muttered, lying back and blinking at the ceiling.

"That's right. I'm the mastermind today."

He heard Steve walk across to the bathroom, the sink running for a moment, then Steve coming back again, and turned his head enough to see. Steve was squinting in the mirror, straightening his tie and fussing with the fall of his hair over his forehead. "Hey, did you want that money for the taxi?"

Steve looked back over his shoulder, not bothering to fight a wry grin this time. "That would be in kinda poor taste at this point, don't you think, Kevin?"

"Oh, God," Kevin groaned, grabbing his pillow and putting it over his face. "Jesus. I'm sorry. I'll just suffocate myself here, and not do these things anymore, it's for the best."

"Hey. Like I said. I just expect you to return the favor." Steve walked over to the bed and took the pillow away from him, then tugged the blanket halfway up over Kevin and patted his shoulder. "What friends are for, right?"

Kevin's brow furrowed slightly. "I thought you said before that we're not friends."

"Mm-hm. And you took me at face value. And that, Kevin my boy," he said, walking to the door and flipping the light switch as he passed, "is all of your problems right there."  



End file.
